Lines of communication
by GotchaYouLilDirtbag
Summary: One shot - post White Lines (s6x11). The team winds down back at the office and Jane works on his communication skills, with some encouragement from the team.


One shot - post White Lines (s6x11). The team winds down back at the office and Jane works on his communication skills, with some encouragement from the team. I am currently working on the editing the next chapter of my Castle fic, but this idea popped into my head after watching this episode (I am SOOOO late to the Mentalist party) and I just wrote it down. Its not been beta'd, but I did my best with the grammar. Hope you like it.

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" _Jane_ , where is the file?"

"Huh? W- what file would that be?"

"You _know_ the one I am talking about."

"W-well, c-clearly, I don't, or I wouldn't - wouldn't be asking."

Fischer glared at the large talking mountain of grey emergency blankets slumped on Jane's couch. He damn well _did_ know the file to which she was referring, and he also knew that she had been looking for it for the last week. Now, according to the increasingly antsy emails she had been receiving from archives, she had until _tonight_ to produce it or by Monday Abbott would be finding similar emails in his inbox. The mound of blankets suddenly quivered. Jane was still cold from his dip in the ocean, but she had precisely zero sympathy for him right now, not when he had stolen her file and she would be getting her behind kicked by their boss on Monday because of his light fingers. She scowled.

"Jane, just tell me where it is."

"Tell you where what is?" Fischer looked up, as Lisbon spoke. The other agent was returning from the kitchen with Jane's tea cup and saucer in one hand and her own coffee mug in the other. Steam was rising from both. Before she could go on to answer Lisbon's question, the pile of blankets moved again and Jane's head popped free. He blinked, squinting in the bright light. His skin was still an unhealthy pallor under the office lighting, and hair was in worse shape than usual with nothing left to hold the curls down, but it seemed his tea-dar was in perfect working order. Fischer stared at him. She had no idea his hair was _that_ wavy. He looked ridiculous, like an overgrown child. A blond Dennis the Menace, maybe.

"Ah!" The consultant's eyes brightened as Lisbon approached, and he started to work a hand out of his cocoon of blankets in anticipation, but before he could get free Lisbon moved the cup and saucer up out of reach.

"What have you taken?" she demanded flatly.

"Not a thing. And- and I am insulted that you would think I did Lisbon," he said, finally wriggling an arm free from the blankets to reach for his tea. Jane was wearing one of Cho's grey sweat shirts, which was at least a size or two too big for Jane's leaner limbs. As he lifted his arm the material slid from his wrist to his elbow.

"Uh ah." Lisbon shook her head, raising the tea up notch. "Not until you give Agent Fischer back whatever you took. And don't give me that look, I raised three brothers. I know that _look_ : that's the look of guilt."

"Pah! That's not g- guilt, its hypothermia."

"Jane! File." There was a stand-off for a long second before Jane suddenly retreated into his blanket pile. The material moved around, and then he re-emerged with a manila folder. He waved it and Fischer sighed, walking over the collect the offering. Lisbon lowered the tea cup towards its owner, and Jane grasped it with both hands. The cup rattled slightly against the saucer, until he lowered it onto the blankets over his lap.

"See, you can't hide from me, Jane," Lisbon said airily, as she pulled her desk chair around and sat down. "I know you."

"Hmph." Jane grumped, making a show of inhaling the steam, eyes closed. The dip of his head almost , but not quite, hiding the pleased upward curl of his lips.

Fischer eyed the slim folder Jane had produced. It looked decidedly worse for wear since it had gone missing. Sharp creases had warped the spine so that the entire folder was curved, and the corners were carelessly thumbed. And it looked like someone had been sitting on it. For days. Wait, was that a stain? The distinctive dark ring from the bottom of a tea cup, right there on the front. Sloppy. Careless. Clearly he had not intended to return the file. Or perhaps didn't care if she knew he had had it? Or he wanted her to know what he thought of the contents. Her lips pursed in irritation. She looked back at Jane.

"You had that under the couch cushions didn't you! This entire time I was looking, you had the file right here under your ass!"

"Well, I am surprised that you didn't look there first," Jane said, managing to sound mildly reproachful, as if offended she hadn't invaded his privacy. Lisbon might have been smiling, but her expression was hidden by her coffee mug as she sipped.

"Unlike you Jane, I do not go through my colleagues' possessions. I _ask_ them if I need something. And, I asked _you_! Days ago."

"Ah, that's where you are going wrong then. I find that not asking for things is much more productive." He waved at the file in her hand. "What's that annoying old cliché? AH! _It's easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to get permission_? I thought all you government types lived by that code?" He sipped his tea, looking over the rim at his target.

"What code?" Cho suddenly appeared, boxes of pizza in his hands.

"I don't know why you are all bent out of shape anyway Fischer?" Jane continued, ignoring Cho. "It's not like you need that file anymore anyway. I mean, mission accomplished: I'm here." Fischer tried not to retort. God, he was infuriating! How had Lisbon and Cho worked with him for so long?

"What's going on?" Cho said.

"Jane is demonstrating how he's working on his communication skills." Lisbon put in, looking up at Cho, amusement curled into her voice.

"Ah." Cho nodded, as if that explained everything, and he put the pizza boxes down on Lisbon's desk. Jane's eyes narrowed. "That didn't last long."

"No. Apparently, you can't teach an old dog new tricks." Lisbon nodded. Jane's scowl deepened.

"You are all about as subtle as a bag of sledge hammers, but ok, fine. Fine." Jane nodded as he spoke. "Agent Fischer. Yes, I had your file in my couch. I took it from your desk last week. There see: _communication skills_."

"Why did you take her file?" Cho asked.

"Because-" Jane paused, reluctance in every line of his face. "Because, I wanted to see how she did it." Everyone stared, and he sighed and rolled his eyes. "I wanted to see how she was working the gag. On the island.

"Oh, are you all going to make me spell it out? Oh, for the love of - I know what she _did_ , I needed to see the file to see _how_ she did it."

"Agent Fischer, conned you?" Cho asked, somehow broadcasting his amusement with barely a movement of his eyebrows.

"No!"

"Yes, she did!" Lisbon was openly grinning now, the expression on her face: a unique blend of mischievous glee and genuine affection that seemed to epitomize her colleague. "Well done Agent Fischer! You must tell me all your secrets."

"No, she did not _con_ me!" Jane objected. "She merely - planted a seed. Made some suggestions. That were - appealing. At the time. On some level."

"Oh, she got you. " Lisbon nodded, implacable and clearly enjoying herself. "And now you want to know how she did it."

"Seeing the file was _necessary_ ," Jane went on, irritated, "to understand one of the new cogs in our smoothly running machine. That's all Lisbon. Now that I know what information she was using to play her game, I can see how she organises her thoughts. All useful information."

"You keep on telling yourself that," Lisbon said, and Fischer felt her lips twisting into a small triumphant smile. She had planted a seed all right. She had read Jane's file, and had received Abbott's approval to take a copy of select portions to create the new file she now held in her hands, and yes she had used it to sow the germ of an idea in Jane's mind: an idea, a possibility, a reminder, of _home_.

In the week leading up to her island visit, she had pored over the original file in increasing irritation. Prior to Patrick Jane appearing in the public eye as a TV psychic and the subsequent horror of his family's deaths, there was scant information. Certainly very little that was useful. His early life was neatly captured on a single sheet of paper: birth place, date, parents' names and occupations (though she seriously doubted that his father was a Futures Analyst, at least not in the conventional sense). A few more enterprising journalists, keen to dig into the psychic's past, had uncovered a few snippets of information, so that the rest of that single sheet was comprised of notes about a possible travelling show connection (the surname: Jane, did appear in connection with several small travelling carnivals; and this was later confirmed when he used this same connection to route his letters to Lisbon), and there was a report of a Patrick Jane appearing in the records of the emergency department of a small hospital with a broken leg, age 12. But then... No school records. No college applications. No driver's license. No car loan. Nothing. It was as if the first part of his life was lived mostly somewhere else, though there was no indication he had ever travelled beyond the borders of the United States - there was no passport, nor any application for one.

But, as Patrick Jane, the adult, began to emerge into the public eye and right through until the murder of the Sheriff of Napa County, Thomas McAllister, aka Red John, the file exploded in volume. It was huge and completely unwieldy. There were so many reports, investigations, letters of complaint from irate witnesses, victims and even convicted criminals, that it was intimidating to dive into. She felt that any useful information that was there was going to be hard to find in the sheer volume of paperwork.

So she returned to what she already knew: that Patrick Jane was a man of single minded determination and cunning who had, without diversion hunted down and killed the man who had murdered his family; and that Jane trusted very few, but was loyal to those whom he allowed near and managed to engender extreme loyalty in return. This last part might have been worthy of some awe, but given that Jane seemed unable to recognize or mind the basic moral code of the society in which he lived, a code that Fischer herself so highly regarded and had sworn to protect, it was just unnerving. He had tracked a man for over a decade and maintained enough rage to strangle him, face to face - to avenge his wife and daughter. And there was report after report of all sorts of duplicity and lack of regard for others both within and outside of law enforcement, and two incidences of homicide. Some this activity was in defence of his team, or directly contributed to his incredible closure rate, but others... Less so. So, rather than being worthy of admiration, Jane's expression of boundless loyalty seemed just plain frightening.

Still, faithfulness, love of friends and family, slow to trust, incredible focus, extreme intelligence, and an apparent streak of amorality, were big picture things she could work with to help bring him in. She just wasn't sure how, yet. But then miraculously, someone assigned the unenviable task of gathering intelligence on Jane had found a black and white photograph of the young Patrick and some of his peers from an archived edition of the Carson Springs newspaper, and everything had fallen into place.

She wondered what Jane had made of her putting a copy of that photograph and accompanying article in her personal file. She looked at the consultant again as he sipped his tea and pretended to ignore the teasing that was continuing in her absence. And how would Lisbon and Cho react to seeing the same photo of the cute ragamuffin Jane and his little show friends. Ah, revenge. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. Fischer flipped though the battered file. Time to get a little of her own back...

"Hey! There's a page missing." Fischer snapped, when the article failed to appear in amongst the pages. "Jane! I need all the file back, not just your leavings!"

Jane opened his mouth to retort, but caught Cho and Lisbon staring at him, and he shut his mouth again. Communication skills. Lacking still. At least now he had the grace to look a bit self-concious about it.

"Jane, give her back the page. The pizza is getting cold!" Cho ordered.

"Ooh, is the pizza here?" Wylie suddenly called out as he approached them from the direction of the elevators.

"Ah, Wylie," Jane spoke, not even trying to hide the fact he was doing what he could to avoid the direction the conversation was taking. "Did you find my socks?"

"Pizza!" Wylie's too young face split into a grin as he found the stack of boxes on Lisbon's desk. He pulled open the lid of the top most box and inhaled. "Ooh, Cho this is the best tradition _ever_. Case closed pizza, I love you." Cho closed the lid back down and Wiley sagged, staring forlornly at the box.

"Wiley? Socks?"

"Oh, ah yeah. I got to them before they ended up in the wash just like you asked. Here." The younger agent proffered a sodden wet knot of woollen socks and the consultant immediately set about untangling them with a reverence curiously unfitting for a pair of worn out socks. And Lisbon was regarding him with a strangely unsettled expression. "Are you sure you didn't want them washed with the rest of your clothes."

"No, no. These are wool. They can't be treated like any old piece of clothing."

"What about your suit, then? Isn't that made of wool? "

"Meh, _suits_. Dime a dozen." He was critically examining the socks now. Oh for Pete's sake...

"Yes, ok, Jane you have your socks. Now what about my page?" Fischer snapped. And Jane finally looked up at her, expression a touch guarded. He placed each sock carefully over the arm of the couch, and smoothed them down, before answering.

"I think I need that page more than you do, Agent Fischer."

"I hardly think so. By Monday Abbott is going to be getting some pretty irritated emails about not having this file returned."

"It's a file of copies though, right? Photo copies. Scanned copies. The original is still in storage."

"Yes, but-"

"Then no one's getting hurt if I keep this page."

"What's on the page?" Wiley asked, trying to sneak the side of the pizza box open under Cho's hand, "If it's a copy, can't you get one yourself?"

"Good point." Jane conceded, raising a finger, "but since I already have it, it would seem a waste of resources to let one copy be destroyed only for me to then go and get another one."

"That's true." Cho nodded, frowning at Wiley's pestering of the pizza box. "It would be a waste of resources and this conversation could go on all night. Agent Fischer, is what is on the paper a matter for security consideration?"

"Well, no, but -" she blurted out, thinking, _but, but revenge_! She could spill what was on the page, but that would be petty. And she was not a petty person. She wouldn't let one minor altercation with Jane be the reason to change that. Agent Fischer sighed.

"Fine, then let him keep it." Cho was saying. "I want pizza."

"Me too." Wiley nodded enthusiastically. Lisbon was still watching Jane with a slight frown, thinking. But then she too nodded.

They ate the pizza. It was good. When they were nearly done, Fischer grabbed the file and took it down to archives. The clerk was irritated with her, but to quote someone on a floor above her: _meh_. There was a bottle of wine chilling in her fridge and a good movie on TV tonight. If she left now, she might make it before the first ad break and as tired as she was that was a welcome thought.

By the time she returned to their floor, Wiley and Cho were gone and the pizza boxes were too. Lisbon was talking quietly with Jane on his couch, their heads together, murmuring out of ear shot of the few remaining agents scattered about their floor. Fischer took a moment to take in the sight and decided she was too tired to figure this team out right now, if she ever could. As she watched, Jane folded up his socks and handed them over to Lisbon. How did this man get professional agents to do his laundry for him? What was going on? She had read Jane's file, learned just what his friends were willing to do for him, but to see it in action was another thing entirely. And she was a touch jealous of it too, if she was honest. Agent Fischer sighed for the second time that night and headed to her desk.

"Night Kim." Lisbon called. "I'm heading home. Jane's going to stay on the couch tonight, so don't mind him." The mound of blankets, suddenly headless again as the consultant wriggled into a prone position, mumbled something. "You shut up," Lisbon snapped. "You've caused enough trouble today and your communication skills still suck." She pursed her lips, and frowned again, expression softening slightly. "Just go to sleep, ok." Another mumble. Lisbon rolled her eyes.

Fischer shook her head and picked up her own bag, checking her cell phone was there. She bent to turn off her computer and straightened up to find Lisbon at her desk.

"Look, Kim, don't mind Jane." Lisbon spoke quietly. "He's being a pain in the ass, but he won't do anything stupid with that page he's taken. He's... He's changed since he's come back."

"If you say so," Fischer said, but not unkindly. "How did you guys put up with him back in CBI?"

"Looking back, I really can't answer that." Lisbon grinned, tiredly. "What _is_ on that page? No. No, on second thoughts, I don't want to know. That can wait until tomorrow. Or never. Oh, I'm bushed. Good night Kim." And she waved, and left.

"'Night." Fischer called after her, smiling before casting an eye over her desk again. Everything in order. She hefted her bag over her shoulder and started towards the elevator.

"Fischer?" Jane suddenly called out as she passed by.

"What is it Jane?" She turned to look towards the couch to see the consultant's rumpled head and shoulders protruding from the blankets again.

"You know why I have it don't you?"

"I can guess."

"You can do more than that, Agent. I saw your file. I know what you did and why you did it." He considered her quietly for a moment. "You are very good. Very good. So I'll tell you why I want it. It's not just about family, though there is that, as you know. But, well, I don't have any photographs from that time. Carnie's aren't big on taking snaps and when I saw it - "

"It's ok Jane. I get it."

"Yes, you do." He smiled and closed his eyes, lying back in his nest of blankets. "I'll have to watch you." He yawned and pulled the blanket over his face. "Too nosy. Making too many connections. You know too much."

Fischer smiled, "Mmh, well, that was a back handed compliment."

"But, still a compliment, Agent Fischer."

"'Night Jane."

"Mmph."

The end.


End file.
